The Grass isnt always Greener on the Other Side
by That-Little-Canadian-Shipper
Summary: What happens when Mary goes into labour? TW (Suicide attempt, drug use)


**So, hello guys! I've been talking with my friends (Yes I have friends), and have decided the make a Sherlock ONESHOT. So, enjoy. **

* * *

Mary had been in a lot of pain that week, her chest hurt, the kicking in her stomach wouldn't stop, and frankly, her ankles had swollen to the size of a bees nest, and she could barely walk due to the excruciating pain.

So when her water finally broke that fateful day; February 24th, to be exact; it wasn't that big of a surprise.

It did take some people by surprise, though, especially John. John had panicked more than Mary had, so much that Mary started walking to the hospital. She was a slow walker, and every time she stepped she made a pained noise.

Luckily, John had come to his senses, calmed down and drove her to the hospital. Once they had her in the bed, John texted Sherlock 3 words.

**Barts Hospital. NOW. JW**

He responded in less than a minute with two words.

**Cant. Busy. SH**

John rolled his eyes and took Mary's hand. "I guess Sherlock wont be joining us today. What a prick."

Mary looked at John with her tired eyes and managed a smile. "Its okay. He isn't missing much. Just some screaming and insufferable pain."

John smiled back. It fell though when he felt a hand on his back. "The hospital wants you to get prepped for the room so that you wont infect the birthing room." The nurse said, giving John scrubs.

"Oh. Thank you." He kissed Mary's forehead. "I'll be right back, Mary. And you.." he pointed to Mary's belly. "Do not come out until I come back."

He kissed Mary again before leaving to change in the bathroom. When he got inside, he quickly slipped off his jumper. He checked out his scar and sighed.

"Here we go. Into war." He prepped himself before putting on the rest of the mandatory outfit.

Stepping out of the bathroom, John nearly face planted. He looked to his side and saw Sherlock standing before him.

"What are you doing?" John asked the tall man who was leaning against the wall.

"You've got a baby coming, John. Get your act together." Sherlock walked towards the hospital room that Mary was in.

"Uh, no.." John grabbed his arm and pulled his back. "I cannot let you go in there. You're annoyance will send the baby straight out just so it could tell you to shut up."

Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion. "I was kidding, Sherlock. Jesus, I have to go in there."

"Into battle, John." Sherlock grinned.

John rolled his eyes. "Its a baby, not the war. And let me tell you, I know what the war is like."

"Yes I know, you love reminding us of it." Sherlock chuckled and headed towards the hospital room. "Now lets go, they've already prepped her and getting her ready for the birth."

It felt like time had slowed down when John entered the hospital room. Of course he didn't let Sherlock in, he'd make a mess of things.

* * *

Mary laid on the bed, her legs propped up. John was holding onto her hand, and she was squeezing it really hard.

Her face was red and her teeth clenched. John would whisper soothing things to her every so often, but the only response was "Shut up" or "This is your bloody fault you son of a bitch."

John didn't take it personally though, it was the pain talking.

"Alright Mary, one last push okay?" The doctor smiled as he instructed Mary.

She did just as the doctor told her to do, and gave one final push. It was the one that hurt the most, but when she heard the crying it was all worth it.

"Its a boy!" The doctor said, carefully giving the baby to the nurse. He grabbed his scissors so they could cut the baby's umbilical cord.

"You did it Mary." John said, grasping her hand. When he didn't get a response, he looked over at Mary. Her eyes were closed. "Mary!" He said, alerting the baby of him.

The doctor looked at Mary and then the baby. "Nurse, check the baby's breathing pattern."

John watched the doctors rush to the baby to set it up to a breathing tube. Everything went quiet. Only the beeps on the monitor could be heard.

Mary laid still on the bed, her face was sweaty, but the look she was giving was peaceful. He had never seen her with such a sweet look.

He looked over at the baby, who was having the nurse run a few tests. The nurse had her hand on the baby's small wrist, and had a stethoscope on his chest.

The doctor slowly walked over to Mary and checked her pulse. John was still. His whole body felt like it was on fire. How could he face this without Mary. He had already lost somebody he loved, he couldn't do it again.

He wouldn't.

It had been too painful the first time. Mary saved him.

_[Flashback]_

John stood in front of St Barts Hospital, where just one , Sherlock Holmes had killed himself. He had passed it every day trying to hold back the tears. But on the eve of Sherlocks death, he decided to see it.

Lestrade, Mycroft and Molly had joined him. Mrs Hudson, Donovan, Anderson, and finally Mike Stamford were also by Johns side.

Molly was holding onto Tom, her recent fiance. Mike was soothing Mrs Hudson, and Mycroft just stood still at the scene.

Anderson had wigged out a week after Sherlocks death, and started coming up with theories of how Sherlock faked it. His beard was patchy on his face, and multi coloured. His fingers were twitching as he stared at the sight where Sherlock Holmes died, because of him. (Or at least he thought)

Sally was shaking her head at Greg. She kept whispering to him. "I was right."

"Be a little more respectful, would you?" Lestrade commented, his temper rising.

"No, Greg, shes right. She said that one day we would all see a body, and that Sherlock Holmes would be the one who put it there." John said with a choke in the last word.

Mrs Hudson stepped away from Mike so she could hug John.

Hours passed by, eventually everyone left. Surprisingly, Mycroft was the last to go. "I would apologize but it seems saying sorry wont make things better. So, until next year. Oh, and move out of Baker Street. You'll never move on if you stay there."

Mycroft pat him on the shoulder and left.

John sighed and walked over the sidewalk, where Sherlock had fallen. Where he had seen the dead body of Sherlock Holmes.

_he's my friend._ That voice echoed in Johns head.

_Goodbye John._

_Its just a magic trick... nobody could be that clever._

_you could._

Unknowingly, John had let the tears fall down his cheeks. He coughed and wiped a finger under his nose.

_SHERLOCK!_

He wanted him alive. Why'd he die?

_Dont be dead._

"Hello, are you okay? I saw you crying." A blonde lady asked, approach John.

He wiped away his tears. "Uh, yes. Fine. Thank you." He said, turning around.

"Well you're crying and your face is puffy. That doesn't seem okay to me." The lady walked closer to him. "Isn't this the place where the famous detective Sherlock Holmes died? Killed himself, right? What a shame."

John nodded. "It is."

"I went to the funeral. Not many people were there. To be fair he was a jackass." She crossed her arms and looked at John. "Im Mary, by the way." She held out her hand.

"John. John Watson." He shook her hand.

"Oh, you're the famous John. His partner. Oh gosh, ive been talking about his death, and you're probably heart broken. Let me make it up to you, Let me buy you a sub. Speedys. Tomorrow, say noon?"

John squinted. "We just met. How do I know you aren't evil or something?"

"Believe me John, I'd never hurt you." Her grin was beautiful. John wasn't able to keep it out of his thoughts.

* * *

He finally snapped out of his daze when the doctor assisted him out of the room and into the hallway. He fell onto one of the chairs beside Sherlock, who was texting on his phone.

"Its a boy." John said before bringing his hands to his neck. "we talked about names but never got around to deciding."

"Hamish. Hamish Watson." Sherlock said, putting his phone away. "I can sense that somethings wrong. What is it?"

John sighed and wiped his nose. "Actually, uh, Mary and the baby are being set up to machines. It didn't go well in there. She was screaming in there. Actual screams. She was in so much pain, and I had to watch it. All of it." John leaned down to rest his head in his palms. "My baby is hooked up to a breathing machine."

Sherlock took a deep breath. He reached over to put his hand on Johns leg. "It'll all be fine, John. I know it."

John looked over and saw sincerity on Sherlocks face. "You don't know that."

Sherlock smiled. "Mary is a fighter."

A couple hours later, John was still in the hospital. Molly had joined him and Sherlock, as did Mrs Hudson and Lestrade.

"You guys know you didn't have to come." John said, eating into a club that Greg and Mrs Hudson bought for him.

"Yes we did. We love Mary." Molly smiled and put her hand on Johns shoulder. "You'll be okay."

John gave her a small smile and nodded. "I know."

"Gavin, can we talk for a moment?" Sherlock asked, standing up. Lestrade did as well and followed Sherlock around the corner.

"If she doesn't make it, you have to give us cases. He needs to be distracted from the pain." Sherlock explained.

"Sherlock, I'll see what I can do, but no promises. You need to let him grieve. Let him come back to Baker St."

The younger Holmes brother nodded his head. "Of course."

The next day, the only people still there were John, Sherlock, and Lestrade.

"Im sorry, boys, but Donovan just called. She needs me there to analyse a scene. Give me a ring later and tell me what happened." He gave John a sincere look. "If you need anything, anything at all, you can call me anytime."

When Lestrade left, John began to remember how much he helped after Sherlock had died.

_[Flashback]_

One year. Two months. John was dating Mary, but he still felt disgusted with himself.

How could he move on? His best friend died, and he was dating again. Everyone was disgusted with him.

One night, when John was packing his things at Baker St, he become acquainted with the door opening and slamming shut.

"John, hello? Its me, Greg." Lestrade looked through the place, wondering how such a successful man could end up so broken.

"In the bedroom." John said, softly.

Greg made his way through the flat, and into the bedroom, only to find John looking at a picture in a frame.

It was a picture of Sherlock when he was younger.

"Have you ever made a big mistake that you can't take back, but you wish you could?" John asked, setting down the frame.

"Yeah. Went to the wrong college. I had always wanted to be a painter, but now Im a detective. I love it, but painting was my favorite thing to do." Lestrade sat down beside him. "Are you still worried about dating Mary? Sherlock would want you to move on."

John sighed and shook his head. "I can't though. Every time I kiss Mary, I just think that he'll run in and get mad at me for moving on."

"You're being ridiculous. John, Sherlock is gone. You sound like Anderson." Lestrade said. "Listen, I know how hard it is to move on, but you gotta stop pretending that hes gonna come back. It'll only make getting over him harder."

John leaned his head against the head board and sighed.

* * *

He sat in the hospital, remembering how Mary would comfort him every night. How she'd hug him whenever he felt sad. When she went to the cemetery so he didn't have to go alone.

"John?" The doctor asked, walking out of the room. He took off his hat when John looked at him. "We tried all we could. The birth of your child was too much for her. Sadly that also means that we lost the baby."

He didn't cry. Not at first. His voice was hoarse though, and his eyes were weak. Sherlock sat beside him with a frown planted on his face. "John, I-" he started.

"Dont." He got off of his chair and looked inside of the room.

"You can say your goodbyes, John." The doctor told him.

When John entered the room, his heart sank. His wife and child both laid in their separate beds, their breath was stopped. He sat on the stool beside his wife and closed his eyes.

He remembered the day right before his wedding. They had both promised not to see each other two weeks before the wedding, but John couldn't resist seeing her.

He had been staying with Sherlock at Baker St while Mary stayed at their house. It was Mrs. Hudson's idea.

But the night before the wedding, John sneaked out of the flat and took a cab ride over to his home. He stayed with Mary that night, they ate dinner together, laughed at the same ridiculous movies, and fell asleep in each others arms.

The next day, John had left early in the morning, and crept back into 221B, only to find Sherlock on the chair.

"You saw her didn't you?" Sherlock asked.

John smiled. "Yes."

"Well, you've already ruined the two weeks. Go see her now." Sherlock got up from his chair. "I'm gonna go call up Mrs Hudson. Go quickly before she sees you."

"Thank you, Sherlock." John grabbed his jacket and left the flat.

* * *

John moved his hand closer to Mary's still body and held her hand. "You're supposed to be strong." He said, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "You're Mary Watson, or Morstan, or whatever your name is. You were an assassin. You're supposed to be stronger than this." His breath was leaving his mouth as he tried to hold back his tears. "You have this big story, this big journey. You cannot just leave like this. This isn't the big death you deserve."

He looked at the baby. "Sherlock said we should name him Hamish. I would've loved that baby to pieces. I would've taken care of him.. You were going to be this great mom and Sherlock would maybe screw him up a little bit, but we'd be a family. A big happy family." John rested his forehead on their hands and sighed. "I'm not going to cry, though. Not now."

He breathed heavily. "You saved my life, Mary. You saved me."

[Flashback]

Mary stood in front of the famous Baker St, where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson would always leave so they could go to their cases. Beside it was Speedy's, the restaurant where she was going to meet John, who she had only met the day before.

She waited there for 10 minutes before knocking on the door. When it opened, Mary came face to face with an older lady. "Um, hi. I'm Mary." She smiled.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson." She smiled and let Mary in. "John's in there if you're looking for him." Her hand pointed up the stairs. "I think you're the first person to stop by besides his friends. The door should be unlocked, just let yourself in."

Mary thanked her and went up the stairs. She grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Looking around, she saw the two chairs sitting there. The one closer to the windows looked like it hadn't been touched in a long time.

There was also a couch that looked old, and in front was a table with footprints on it.

She looked through the apartment and smiled. There wasn't anything like it. When she ventured further into the house, she heard a whimper come from one of the bedrooms.

Slowly, Mary made her way to the bedroom and knocked on it. "John? It's Mary from yesterday. Your landlady said I could just come in."

_Sniffle. _

Mary grabbed the doorknob. "If you aren't decent, say something or else I'm gonna come in and see.. things I shouldn't see."

There wasn't a noise, so Mary opened the door and saw John sitting on the bed, opposite from her. The smell instantly got to her, and she covered her nose. "John, what's that smell? Is that.." Her eyes went wide as she walked in even more. "Oh my God." She ran towards John and saw the tears on his face.

He looked dead. His eyes were empty, and his smile from the day before had vanished. "I couldn't do it." John spoke very quietly. "I just couldn't."

She looked down and saw a large cut on John's arm. "Okay, I need to grab a wet cloth." She grabbed the blade from John and ran into the other room. She searched through the drawers until she found a cloth. She made it wet and ran back into the bedroom.

Quickly, Mary pressed down hard on his arm. "I'm calling 911. You stay here, and hold that cloth down. Hard."

"I know what to do, I'm a doctor." His voice was even worse. Mary stood up from the ground, and saw John move his other hand to press it down.

"Well, good. I'm a nurse." She grabbed her cell phone and called the hospital. "Hi, I'm at 221 Baker St, and my friend John Watson is bleeding. I think he tried to kill himself. Thank you." She hung up the phone. "The ambulance will be here soon."

John nodded and sniffled.

"So, why are you doing this?" She asked, kneeling down.

"My best friend.. Sherlock Holmes. He died a year ago, and its hard. He may have been a pain in the ass, but he was my best friend." John fell onto Mary's shoulder and cried. "I miss him. So much."

Mary put her hand on John's neck and looked straight at him. "It's okay, John. You're okay." She hugged him and let him cry.

* * *

"I one time said that you were the best thing that could've happened to me. You were. Thank you, so much. For everything you ever did for me." John kissed her forehead and said one final good bye before walking over to his child.

He looked at the small baby. "Hamish. Hamish Watson. Has a nice ring to it, huh. I've had such a great nine months preparing for you. I was going to read you bed time stories, tutor you when you needed it.. I would have loved you. I did love you." He leaned down to kiss the baby's head too. "Goodbye Hamish. See you later."

John left the room and saw Sherlock waiting in one of the chairs. "John," He stood up and walked over to his best friend.

"No." John leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. "Just go. Tell Mrs Hudson. Tell Lestrade. But tell them that I don't want pity. I don't want sympathy. Not from anyone." He looked up and saw Sherlock wiping away a tear.

Sherlock sat down beside him. "I'm really sorry for your loss."

"Stop. I don't want you to be sorry." John hid his face in his hands, but still didn't cry. "Please go."

"Alright. Stay at Baker St tonight." Sherlock got up from the ground.

John looked up and shook his head. "I can't, I have to-"

"Please." Sherlock sounded desperate. "John, you're my best friend, and I can't let you stay by yourself tonight. Not after.."

John closed his eyes. "Fine."

Pain. That's all John felt. Pain.

* * *

That night, John knew he had to leave. They had set up dates for a funeral, and decided to have it on the Sunday coming up. He took a cab ride to Baker St.

He breathed it in. He closed his eyes.

Inside, Mrs Hudson was sitting in her quaint little one bed room apartment. Sherlock was sitting at the table with her. "He'll be stopping by later. Please try and keep it together. For John's sake."

"Everyone needs a little cry now and then, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson reached over and grabbed his hand. "When you first got here a couple hours ago, you were crying."

"Yes, but John wasn't around." Sherlock turned when he heard the door open. "That's him."

Mrs Hudson stood up and walked over to the door, where John was walking in. "Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?"

"Fine." John said. There was no emotion to his voice. "Sherlock, I'll be in the flat. Mrs Hudson, the funeral is on Sunday if you wanted to come."

"Oh of course I will. Come here." She hugged John and pat him on the back. "If you need me.. I'm here."

John nodded and went up the stairs. Sherlock gave Mrs Hudson one last smile before following John. When he got up, he saw John sitting in his normal chair, and listening to something on his phone.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, going over to his own chair. He sat down. "You know you can speak to me about this."

John looked up. He was seething. "Just shut up."

"I thought my response was appropriate."

"You don't get it, Sherlock! I waited for you to come back! I waited for a year, and when I realized you weren't, Mary was there for me. God, you're so naïve, Sherlock. I was alone, without you! I needed my best friend, but you weren't there! So I moved on, and I was wrong doing it! I was wrong moving on, because you came back, and Mary died!" John shouted. "I wish you never jumped, because I wouldn't be hurting this much."

Sherlock just watched him. Very calmly, he stood up. "So it's my fault? Did you ever stop to think how much it hurt me to do that? You were the only one who cared that much. Do you know how much I did for you? They wanted me to kill myself, and if I didn't, you'd be dead."

"Good. I'd rather be dead than living this life." John crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

Sherlock leaned down so he was only inches away from John's face. "Don't you ever say that again." He grabbed John's collar. "You are John Watson, you were a solider. Your life is too precious for you to throw away!" He threw John back and went into his room.

John sat still until Sherlock slammed the door shut. "What did you do for me besides play dead for 2 years without telling me?!" John shouted, running to his room.

He opened the door and saw Sherlock leaning against the wall. "I went through brutal beatings, John. It was utter hell, but I did it for you." He turned around and John saw how red Sherlock's face was. "You can't say that stuff, John. I know what you tried to do, so you can't say that. It isn't fair."

John slowly walked over to Sherlock. "I'm sorry. I.. I didn't know."

"I couldn't tell you. You weren't ready to know." Sherlock sighed and looked at how hurt John seemed. "Mary loved you."

John nodded. "Yeah."

"You would have been great parents. You watched _me_ all those years, I'm pretty sure I'm worse than a baby." He chuckled, and for the first time, John actually smiled back.

"No you aren't." John leaned forward to hug Sherlock. "Thanks. I'm gonna go to bed now. Long day." He went to walk toawrds his room, but stopped. "I haven't slept alone in a long time."

Sherlock blinked. "Want me to call Mrs Hudson or Molly?"

"Sherlock.." John sighed. "Will you, please.." He couldn't get the words out.

"Uh, I've grown accustomed to my bed." Sherlock said, pointing out the blanket neatly placed on his bed. "You can sleep with me here.. I, uh, mean you can get some rest on my bed, and I can too." He stuttered out.

John nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

The night was rough. John couldn't fall asleep. Neither could Sherlock.

They both laid in the bed, not acknowledging each other. John closed his eyes and all he could see was Mary's face smiling at him. It dissappeard from him though, when he tried to reach out and grab her, his arms always seemed to be too short.

Beside Mary was Sherlock, and on the other side was Moriarty. His eyes shot open and he rose in the bed. "It's Moriarty. He's alive again, we didn't defeat him yet.. It's him. He killed Mary."

Sherlock looked up and saw John hypervenitlating. "John, no it wasn't. Many people have this happen." He saw John put his face in his hands again. "It'll take some getting used to, John."

* * *

The funeral was hard. It was quiet, and had nice weather. The man spoke nicely, and so did her friends. When John got the oppurtunity to speak, he didn't take it.

There was a reason for it too.

[Flashback]

Mary and John sat in a car with each other, changing the channels of the radio until they found one they could both sing to. It was 'Wake me up before you go go' by WHAM!

"I love this one." Mary smiled. "If I ever die before you, make sure they play this song. It'll be ironic." She chuckled and danced to the tune.

"You're amazing, you know that? If you ever die, I don't know if I could even prepare a eulogy." John took her hand and grinned.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Then dont. Promise me at my wedding, you won't totally nerd out and do a eulogy. This song will be my eulogy." Mary turned it up and continued to dance.

"Deal."

* * *

"Are there any words from the husband?" The pastor asked.

John shook his head. "No words. Just this." He walked over to the front of Mary's casket. He clicked a button on a small speaker they brought with them.

The song 'Wake me up before you go go' played. Everyone listened to it, confused. Except for Sherlock. He knew what the song was for. He knew Mary loved it.

Because he was in the car too.

[Flashback]

"Nevermind the song, just drive faster! We have to get to Lestrade immediately!" Sherlock said, moving forward in his seat.

John and Mary looked at each other. "I swear, he's like a dog sometimes."

[Present Time]

John looked over at Sherlock. The song echoed through the cemetary.

The lyrics played on the speaker, and the only other noise besides the song was the sniffles of guests

_But something's bugging you, Something ain't right_

Sherlock looked down and felt Mrs Hudson grab onto his arm. "This was Mary's favorite song." Sherlock said to her. "Mary told him to play it at her funeral instead of preparing a eulogy.

_My best friend told me what you did last night, Left me sleepin' in my bed, I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead._

* * *

When they got back to Baker Street, it felt quiet. They had rode with Mrs Hudson, who was still sniffly when they got back.

"I'll make you boys some tea." Mrs Hudson said, walking into the building.

John shook his head. "No, don't. We don't need tea right now. Just rest, Mrs Hudson." He wrapped his arms around her short body.

"Oh, deary. Thank you." He kissed his cheek and grabbed his cheeks. "You're so brave."

Sherlock grabbed John's arm. "Yes, well, we have to go." He made his way up the stairs with John right behind him. When they got into the room, with the door shut, that's when John fell apart.

His legs gave out and he fell against the door.

"John, do you want some-" Sherlock walked back in the living room and saw John sobbing on the ground. "Oh dear."

John had his face buried and was crying. His haunting sobs filled the room.

Sherlock sat beside him and pushed him into his arms. John latched on and cried into his chest. "She would think I'm a wimp." John said, barely getting it out without crying even more.

"She'd understand." Sherlock allowed his friend to cry even more. "Ever expect this life for yourself?"

John shook his head and bit his lip. His tears spilled out of his eyes. "I loved them so much and I never even got to say goodbye." He cried. His tears were soaking through Sherlock's black shirt. "This wasn't supposed to happen." His voice was cracking and was rough.

"It's what makes the world go round. Birth and death. Mary just got tangled into the mess too early. To go onto a new book, you have to finish the old one." Sherlock said.

John looked up. Tears going down his cheeks. Red lines under his eyes. "But what if I love the old book?"

"It'll always be there to relieve again. But moving onto a new book, and every new chapter, every new word, will make the series even better." Sherlock helped John up and into his bedroom.

John let the blankets fall over him. "Sherlock, please stay." John whispered.

"Okay." Sherlock laid in the bed and felt John take his hand.

* * *

Months after Mary's death, John had decided to go back into cases. Sherlock had found them an easy one, but it was risky as well.

"Its at a drug den? Sherlock, what about.." He asked, quietly.

"You'll go in. I'll stay outside and talk to people." Sherlock opened the car door when they had arrived. "You just need to ask them if they know about the death of Rupert Noxton."

John nodded. "Alright. I'll be back soon." He walked away from Sherlock and straight into the building and saw a familiar man.

The man's eyes went wide. "Oh no. Back to break my arm again?"

"Oh, it's you. Bill Wiggins. And I didn't break it, I sprained it." He said, walking through the building.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Bill asked, walking closer to him.

John smiled. "It's no big deal. Just looking for information."

"Is this like last time?" He asked.

"No, I'm not looking for somebody. I'm looking for something. Keep up." John snapped, walking up the stairs. When he got into the room, he saw a man laying on a bed, with a blunt in his hand.

John sighed and walked over to him. "Sir, I have to ask you a few things."

The man looked at him with droopy eyes. "No. I came here to rest."

"Well, it doesn't look like you're resting much. Come on. Lets get you out of here." John grabbed his arm and tried to lift him up, but the man pulled John down.

"Relax." The man took the blunt out of his hands and gave it to John.

"Um, no thank you." John pushed it away, which made the man nod. "I see. Martin, come here."

A burly man stood up and walked over to the two men. "What do you need, Roger?" He asked with a faint voice. He sounded like he was smoking cigarettes, because his voice was hoarse.

"Give him what you have." Roger said, pulling John back.

"No, please, I just want to ask you a few questions." John tried to pull away, but Roger kept him there. "Relax." He whispered.

When Martin walked back over, he had a needle and smiled. "Enjoy, John Watson."

John's eyes went wide. Roger slammed his hand over John's mouth before he could say anything. Martin kneeled down and smiled. "It's okay. Mary's death wasn't your fault." He stuck the needle right in John's arm.

An hour later, Sherlock was beginning to get nervous for his friend, so he stripped off his trenchcoat, his scarf, and threw them in the car. He then proceeded to enter the room. He saw Bill Wiggins standing there.

Completely ignoring him, Sherlock went up the stairs and was shocked with what he saw. John Watson was laying on the bed, completely zoned out. He ran over to him and knelt down.

"What did you do?!" Sherlock asked, slapping John's cheeks lightly.

John smiled, but didn't say anything. "He needed to relax." Roger said, walking closer to Sherlock. "Mr Holmes, where have you been lately?"

In one swift movement, Sherlock turned around, and punched the man in the face. He grabbed John, and ran.

When they were out of the building, Sherlock threw John in the car and went in on his own side. "You.. What happened?" Sherlock asked, starting up the car.

John mumbled something. "I knew you weren't ready for a case. Dammit John, I knew it. We are bringing you back to Baker St so you can rest, get this out of your system."

* * *

It had been a week since John and Sherlock spoke after that incident. John stayed in his room except when getting something to eat, and Sherlock was always on cases.

Every night before falling asleep, John would text Sherlock a goodnight text. That was the only way they stayed in touch, even if they lived in the same place.

Sherlock never answered back, though.

It took a week for John to leave his room for something other than food. Sherlock was sitting on the chair in the living room, reading the newspaper. On the front page, it had a picture of him with a caption _Sherlock Holmes on the case, but where's his sidekick?_

"Good story?" John asked, sitting in his chair.

"I don't know. I don't want to read catty gossip." Sherlock flipped the page.

John sighed and got up from his chair. "I knew I wasn't ready. I was just scared that life was taking off without me." John said. "I'm sorry, but I tried getting out of that situation. It wasn't my fault."

Sherlock glanced up and closed the newspaper. "Yes, it was. I'm not playing it safe around you anymore. You were stupid, John. You were stupid to go on a case if you knew you weren't ready."

"What do you want me to say?" John asked.

"I don't know." He got up and walked into the kitchen. "I've been in that type of situation before, John. It isn't safe in there, especially if you have other things on your mind.

John closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

"I know." Sherlock looked at him. "I know you are, but unfortunately, sorry doesn't do any good."

"Well can you at least forgive me?!" John slammed his hands on the table.

Sherlock turned around and opened the fridge. "I went shopping, but there's nothing in here I want."

John furrowed his brows. "What? You didn't answer my question!"

"Than let me make it up to you. Speedy's. Let me buy you a sub." Sherlock flared a smile at John. "Isn't that what Mary said when she spoke about my death?"

"How'd you know that?" John asked.

"Because you told me. You guys had an epic love story." Sherlock paused. "And here's to a new story." He glanced at John. "Because even if we all like the old book, we always need to read on." He said, and then turned back to the door. "So, Speedy's?"

John nodded. "Speedy's."

* * *

**Thank you for reading my story! It means alot to me! :D**

**please review and let me know what you thought!**


End file.
